


Eyes on Me

by Moonlit_Lilacs



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Angst, Cloud & Reno are besties, Crack Treated Seriously, Excessive Drinking, Humor, Internal Conflict, Jealousy, Lack of Communication, M/M, Pining, Sephiroth is a creep, Sexual Tension, Truth or Dare, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 10:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlit_Lilacs/pseuds/Moonlit_Lilacs
Summary: Cloud Strife's seemingly uneventful life comes to a halt when he receives an invitation from none other than Rufus Shinra to attend a most unconventional Christmas party, whose attendees range from close friends to unforgiving enemies.Jealousy and tensions cloud the air, and a supposedly fun get-together forces the attendees of the party to finally resolve their issues. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng, Sephiroth/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Comments: 11
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> We love those idiots. We really do. Which is why we decided to put them all together in one room and refuse to let them out until they've resolved their shit. You're cordially invited to witness the chaos.

Cloud would describe his day-to-day life as quite monotonous. Nothing truly interesting happens now. Back in the days, the most excitement he got stemmed from the sporadic missions AVALANCHE ventured on every once in a while, and if it wasn’t for the occasional trips with Aerith to pick flowers for her to sell—an activity that Cloud would prefer not to admit had grown on him dearly—and running errands for the townspeople per Tifa’s request, he would likely have kept himself locked in his small, under-furnished motel room.

All of this came to an abrupt end.

The turmoil brought upon by political unrest, and the distress that engulfed him following his last encounter with his arch nemesis, threatened to swallow him in inescapable darkness. He could feel himself growing more jaded, more withdrawn, his sanity hanging by a thread and a scream itching to escape his throat. It was all too much. And so he did what he saw was best: he began to distance himself from everyone, ignoring concerned texts and incessant phone calls. He traveled high and low, staying in a different place every two nights, as if being constantly on the move would help him escape from not only the people around him, but also himself.

It doesn’t help that the man whom he had always trusted to be his anchor became a source of anguish for him. When his memories returned to him with a force matching that of a freight train, he could only hold his head in both hands, clutching painfully at his hair, as a silent scream was stolen from the very depth of his soul. Tears stung his eyes, but they never fell. The shock of all those images was too painful, and his eyelids remained screwed shut.

Love, joy, loss, grief — those feelings collided without mercy in his heart until he swore it would shatter.

But Zack Fair is no longer dead. He knows he is not.

Just as well as he knows that Zack would want nothing to do with what Cloud has become.

He imagines the surprise in crystal blue eyes as disappointment causes the ever-cheerful smile that used to grace Zack’s lips to disappear.

And it hurts. It hurts so much that Cloud never wants to think of it again. He would rather live in Zack’s mind as a dearly archived memory, decorated with fanciful perceptions and adorned by loving endearment, than risk losing his best friend all over again—only this time, both of them would be alive, but it is the Cloud that Zack knew who would die.

No, he wouldn’t cause him such grief.

Even if he wants nothing more than to be near him again.

It is greatly ironic that the one person persistent enough to consistently find him wherever he goes is none other than Reno. Although, Cloud supposes, Turks do have a way with getting information.

The first time Reno sought out Cloud, he was on an official assignment—a mandate by the President to make sure that AVALANCHE members were not planning on wreaking havoc again. The mako-infused glare barely fazed him as he stood with laid-back ease against a rusted doorframe, taking pity on the lonely, disheveled state of the blonde. It was with great effort that Reno managed to drag him to a bar, buying him a few drinks to get him to loosen up. The unassuming company seemed to be appreciated, and now, Cloud no longer protests to the Turk’s unexpected arrivals. Well, he does protest, just not to the same extent as before.

Somewhere along the lines, Reno became a symbol of blissful distraction from the thoughts that plagued him day and night—to drink and forget, what could be better for a person like Cloud? Whiling away the hours until entire days have faded became a favorite activity of his.

But this brought a new addition to an already growing list of negative feelings that he experiences whenever he is sober: shame.

What a cruel joke it is that the only way to rid himself of this feeling is through the very activity that causes it.

And so his days pass, with hardly any change or any joy.

Today starts off normally enough.

Dragging himself from bed, Cloud barely finds the motivation to so much as boil some water. Groggy and bleary-eyed, he takes lazy sips from his coffee, when suddenly, a fiery figure capped with messy red hair barges through the door, carrying an envelope in his hand.

"Blondie!" greets Reno, at which Cloud can do little more than groan and roll his eyes. If he had more energy, he would have pushed him out of his apartment and locked the door against him. "Whoa now, don't give me that look without hearing me out first," he quips with a smirk.

Heaving an exhausted sigh before noticing the envelope that is being excitedly waved around, Cloud deadpans, "Out with it.”

Satisfied the blonde's concession, Reno extracts the small piece of paper from the envelope and clears his throat dramatically. " _Dear property of mine_ ," when Cloud opens his mouth to issue an incredulous interruption, Reno shushes him and carries on, " _In an attempt to ease the hostile tension that has gathered around our beloved Midgar as of late, the esteemed Shinra company has decided to host a grand celebration of Yuletide. You are cordially invited to this year's biggest event._ " A scoff was duly ignored. " _Kind regards, your boss. PS: Refusal is out of the question_."

Reno looks up, anticipating Cloud's reaction and undeterred by the characteristic scowl marring his delicate features.

_Of course Mr. Killjoy is against any form of fun._

And as though not to disappoint his expectations, Cloud issues a flat, "No way.”

Unable to stop the onslaught of disturbing scenarios that unfold in his mind, Cloud can't help but wonder who else is invited. Would it be possible that his old friend is invited, too? Just as quickly as the thought occurs to him, he dismisses every implication that it might have as silly. _There's no time to be wasted on such frivolities. I have more important things to do._

"I see the wheels turning in that blond head of yours, man," says Reno, visibly frustrated with his friend and his tendency to overthink everything. He knows exactly what to say to unwind the stoic man—besides, when was the last time he genuinely had a good time? Or laughed? Or so much as smiled? He definitely needs a change of air.

Finished with this inane conversation, Cloud stands up and makes towards the kitchen. However, hearing Reno's next proposition makes him stop dead in his tracks.

"Well, I guess I'll have to drink that vintage bottle of Banora Whites wine all alone at the party," he puts a finger against his chin in mock contemplation.

Silence ensues for the next ten seconds, and Reno knows that he has won.

Without turning, Cloud sigh and inclines his head to the side, and says, “Fine. But I won't stay long.”

* * *

Silence fills the expansive presidential office located at the very top of the Shinra building, broken only by the occasional taps of bored fingers against a glass desk.

“Tseng,” drawls Rufus, half amused, half testy. “I can all but _hear_ you thinking. Care to share those thoughts so that I can put an end to them?”

Behind him, the leader of the Turks tenses momentarily but instantly recovers. Clearing his throat, Tseng says, “It’s the party, Sir.”

Raising a pale eyebrow, Rufus says, “What about it?”

“Inviting anti-Shinra organizations like that eco-terrorist group seems rather… ill-advised.”

But his superior responds with a chuckle, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning back to look at Tseng. “Let me guess what you’re thinking. It looks like we’re giving our enemies the perfect opportunity to destroy our base and kill everyone who works here, myself included. You fear absolute chaos. Is this it?”

It doesn’t come as a surprise to Tseng how easy it is for Rufus to read him, and with an impassive expression, he says, “Precisely, Sir.”

Rufus lets out an even breath, pausing for a moment before saying, “Do you remember my excursion to the Gongagian underground caverns four years ago?”

Uncertain as to where this conversation is going, Tseng furrows his eyebrows and says, “Not with great detail. Reports don’t mention anything of true significance.”

“That was per my request,” Rufus says smoothly. “But I trust you won’t disclose what I’m about to tell you now.” When Tseng returns his gaze without wavering, he continues, “While visiting the shrine of Goddess Eirene, I came across a previously undiscovered materia referred to by the locals as the _pax_ or _peace_ materia.”

“Peace materia?” questions Tseng.

“It disallows and quells any hostile action,” Rufus elaborates. “It has no effect on hostile _intentions_ , mind you. But it should suffice to prevent unnecessary bloodshed.”

His interlocutor seems taken aback. Dark eyes widen a fraction, and it is evident that he wishes to voice a thousand questions, but he halts himself at once. Nothing he has in mind would be appreciated by his president.

Rufus’ nimble fingers toy with a golden fork before bringing a piece of the delicate dessert to his lips. “I like to call it the no-fight materia,” he muses, a smirk playing at his lips.

Before Tseng is given the chance to reply, the door slams open abruptly, revealing an exuberant Reno, closely followed by a frowning Rude.

“My apologies, Sir—” begins Rude, attempting to excuse his partner’s less than civil behavior, before he is quickly interrupted by a screech.

“Guess what!” exclaims Reno excitedly. Three pairs of eyes lock on him, each expressing a different reaction. Rufus’ icy eyes glint menacingly, as though daring his subordinate to continue this ridiculous display. Tseng appears to be mentally preparing a thousand trivial chores for the imbecile to do as a punishment. Rude looks like he wishes he was dead.

Rufus fixes him with a sardonic glare. “Oh do enlighten me.”

Unperturbed by the less than welcoming responses, Reno continues, “Consider Blondie handled!”

This earns a slight raise of the eyebrows from Rufus as a small smile tugs at his lips. He seems pleased, much to Tseng’s surprise. The ravenette chances a furtive look at his superior, not daring to verbally question the source of his interest in Cloud Strife. Tseng always believed Rufus’ interest in the AVALANCHE member stemmed from his fascination with his combative skills, however, he isn’t quite sure of that anymore.

Fighting off a frown, Tseng schools his features to his usual stoic facade and turns to address his Turks with approval.

“Well done, Reno, Rude,” he says crisply.

The promise of the upcoming Christmas party lingers in the air, with everyone harboring varying attitudes towards everything it might entail. But one thing is for sure. This is going to be a hell of a party. 


	2. Chapter Two

Well, this is definitely not what he expected.

Cloud finds himself rooted to the spot the moment the elevator stops at floor 61, the door opening to reveal a completely bedazzled setting, with flickering ambient lights and music blaring through speakers at the highest volume. Ironically, the music booming out of the speakers isn’t the usual Christmas songs, instead, obnoxious pop music could be heard. He can already feel the onset of a headache, and he presses two fingers to his temple, regretting all the choices that have led him to this moment. 

Christmas decorations line every corner of the floor, extinguishing any traces of the bland decor it previously housed. Mistletoes strewed about haphazardly, beckoning potential couplings and igniting a romantic atmosphere. Cloud squints and eyes them carefully, hoping he wouldn’t get caught under those demonic ornaments. Shifting his gaze a little, he notices a large tree situated conveniently at the center of the ball, decorated to the extreme with stuttering lights that would probably bring about a seizure to anyone.

There in front of the Christmas tree, lies a wide display of alcoholic beverages, ranging from stale beer to luxurious champagne, and Cloud’s eyes instantly lock on his trophy; _Banora Whites Wine._ His lips part forming a silent ‘oh’, feeling his mouth water at the sight, fully knowing at that moment that he hit the jackpot.

He never thought he would see the Shinra building without its display of pretentious grandeur, but lo and behold; what was once known as the world’s most esteemed company is now housing Wallmarket’s most degenerate acts.

The first person that graces his sight is Johnny with Honeybees clinging to him from both sides and he hears his obnoxious cackle permeate through the entire floor. Drinks are being poured relentlessly into willing and unwilling glasses. There in the middle of the dance floor are Aerith and Tifa dancing joyfully and giggling at their admittedly cheesy moves. It makes for a sweet image, he has to admit. Tifa is wearing a snug red dress whose skirt flows with every small spin she makes, while Aerith is dressed in a more loose-fitting white dress, with a red bow to accentuate her waist. Both of them have reindeer antlers on their heads, and wide grins brighten their features. 

A warm feeling floods his chest to see them so carefree, as though all the problems in the world are momentarily forgotten. Unbidden, an intrusive thought comes to his to mind as he recalls their last encounter, and the moment he decided that he would not be seeing them anymore.

At the time, it seemed like a good decision. He wanted them out of the clutches of his pervading misery and his uncanny ability to draw problems wherever he went. They deserve better than that. But he must admit that he misses their company. Having Reno around, while undeniably fun, is marred by an intrinsic chaotic factor that overwhelms Cloud’s senses, and he often finds himself yearning for a serene presence. The innocence of Tifa and Aerith’s unassuming company.

This sense of melancholy is promptly put to an end when his eyes skirt to the side and land on none other than Sephiroth—and is that _Genesis_?

For once in his life, Sephiroth has forgone his usual attire in favor of a white shirt that was mostly concealed by a tight black leather jacket that reaches his waist. Sunglasses are perched atop his head, hair cascading smoothly down his back, with one leg crossed over the other. One arm is slung across the back of the love-seat, holding a glass of champagne with slender fingers. Needless to say, he looks majestic. 

Genesis is dressed to match. For one reason or the other, the redhead deemed it necessary to wear his sunglasses over his eyes, as though to combat the ever-flickering lights. Cloud can’t say he blames him. His shirt is black, and his leather jacket matches his fiery hair and tastes. Unlike Sephiroth, his wine-holding hand is thrown carelessly over the shoulder of a swooning Honeybee. 

Despite being seated beside each other, the air of belligerent hostility between the two former Soldiers is undeniable.

Seeing his arch-nemesis sitting so comfortably in the same room as he prompts an instinctive feeling to reach for a sword that is unfortunately absent. Cloud curses beneath his breath, anger boiling in the pit of his stomach.

He feels an icy cold glare piercing through his skull, forcing Cloud to draw his eyes away from the steely ground and into the eyes of the person whom he dreads the most. A shiver runs down his spine and his breath hitches. Not one to back away from a challenge, he glares with even greater ferocity. Sephiroth’s gaze turns challenging, a smirk tugging at his lips, as though daring the blonde to step forward and to so much as breathe in his direction.

Cloud’s eyebrows furrow, a sneer settling on his features. He braces himself to go and punch the living daylight out of that asshole. _How dare that presumptuous piece of shit show his face unannounced and blatantly challenge me?_

The malice morphs into lethal intention, as he readies himself to go punch that knowing smirk off of Sephiroth’s face. However, an unnatural force compels him to stand still, as though preventing him from taking action. It is like an invisible hand pulling him backward, except no one is touching him. An even deeper frown settles on his face. 

_What is going on?_

Pulling him from his thoughts, a hand strikes him across the shoulder and brings him back to the present moment.

“Yo man, I’m heading to the bar. You coming?” Reno asks, his voice resounding from his left in a loud and exuberant tone.

Upon hearing those words, Cloud remembers the reason he agreed to come in the first place. Be that as it may, the Turk still deemed it necessary to escort him to the party, as though fearful that the blonde might bail out at the last minute. 

_Previously that evening, Reno barged into his motel room completely unannounced, dragging an unwilling Cloud through an unnecessary makeover and applying a hefty amount of eyeshadow and eyeliner to accentuate the color of his turquoise eyes._

_Sitting through relentless jabbing at his eyelids, too lazy to argue, Cloud couldn't help but feel bad for every girl who has to put up with this torture daily._

_After many trials and errors, Reno stepped back wiping at the sheen of sweat that gathered on his forehead, his eyes admiring his handiwork, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, and Cloud didn’t know whether to be terrified or excited._

_"I must say I've outdone myself this time." Hands sitting on his hips confidently, Reno raised his eyebrows appreciatively, gesturing for Cloud to look at himself._

_Turning around in his chair, Cloud leaned forward on his elbows, eyes roaming over the unfamiliar reflection he was met with. Gaia! Was that actually him? He couldn't help but be astounded by the amount of detail that went into his makeup, soft blue eyeshadow dusted on his eyelids, bringing out the beauty of the two blue orbs. When was the last time he put considerable effort into his looks?_

_Grimacing slightly, Cloud recalled a memory he thought was repressed; the Honeybee Inn mission, or as he prefers to call it, 'incident'. Being forcibly dressed in women’s clothes hadn’t been what he expected when targeting Don Corneo, embarrassment seeping into his veins at the responses he garnered from differing crowds. However, the mortification had gradually faded away in favor of a warm feeling in his chest. One could call it an epiphany of some sort, an eye-opening experience where Cloud got to touch on his more feminine side, and it felt damn good._

_Never in his life would he have considered the absurdity of the situation, but lo and behold, Cloud Strife was enjoying every minute of it. Of course, he would never dare admit this aloud if anyone dares to question it._

_“Time for the finishing touch!” Abruptly pulling him out of his thoughts, Reno made to grab a bottle of clear pink liquid, waving it in front of Cloud’s face, “Lip gloss!”_

_Surprisingly, Cloud sat still, making no effort to resist. Reno took this as an invitation to coat his full lips generously in the liquid, his other hand sweeping Cloud’s unruly spikes away from his face._

_Faintly, Cloud wondered when the Turk had managed to learn how to apply makeup so effortlessly, considering the strict work regimes forced upon the Turks allowed no room for outside ‘entertainment’. However, it didn’t come as a surprise, since the red-heads signature look entails a dash of orange eyeshadow, bringing out a feral yet almost cat-eyed look._

Quietly chuckling at the memory, Cloud is brought back to the present moment and takes a minute to process Reno’s question. Yes, a drink would settle his anxieties. 

He lets out a muffled, “Yeah,” and heads straight to the bar without checking whether his friend was following. 

The bartender smiles as the two arrive and says, “What can I get you?”

Without so much as giving an indication of an answer, Cloud grabs the nearest Banora White wine bottle and pops it open, chugging a good portion of the bitter liquid, moaning appreciatively at the divine taste. Even Reno looks stunned.

“Someone is a little excited,” Reno comments with a smirk.

“It’s why I came here, remember?” replies Cloud. “Besides, the sooner I have my fill, the sooner I leave.”

Reno clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Man, you’re no fun. Look around you!” Here he puts an arm around Cloud’s shoulder, prompting him to take in all the different stimuli. “So many opportunities and you’re limiting yourself? Loosen up, go get some! I bet you’ll see someone you like here.”

Rolling his eyes, Cloud flatly says, “Not interested.”

“Well then, I guess a drink really would do you some good. Drink up!” Reno clinks his glass with his friends’ bottle and downs the vodka in one shot. 

* * *

Across the room, Zack Fair is balancing three drinks in his two hands as he marches towards where Tifa and Aerith are seated. He had reconnected with the two girls when he was brought back from the lifestream, with a vague but undeniable inkling that it was Cloud who willed him back. Although he couldn’t find his friend, he stumbled upon AVALANCHE, and he quickly gained their trust and was deemed worthy of joining them. 

And although Zack appreciated the sense of security, there was a tangible gap where his heart should be. The first few months were difficult, but he soon came to terms with how things were and will be, even though it was done begrudgingly.

When an invitation came with the Shinra logo stamped on the envelope, Zack was filled with deep resentment. He came close to shredding the piece of paper, recalling years upon years of relentless experimentation and torture at the hands of merciless scientists. He wanted nothing more than to bring the whole establishment down to ashes.

But when Aerith sweetly said that the best revenge one could take is an unwavering stance, showing the infernal bastards that they did not bring him down and never will, he felt his resolve begin to break. Besides, they all needed a breather. And as blasphemous as the idea of gathering with enemies sounded, it was also a tactical one. Destroy Shinra from the inside out _and_ waste their money as the group had fun? Golden. 

Barret would not have enjoyed the idea, but it’s good that he doesn’t know about his friends’ whereabouts.

Setting down the drinks on their designated table, Zack begins, “Sorry I’m la—”

Through the corner of his eyes, he catches a glimpse of unmistakable soft, blond spikes. He whips his head around, confirming a suspicion that he never dared to contemplate before. There is no mistaking it, however. There, in all his glory, is Zack’s source of despair: Cloud Strife.

Stopping dead in his tracks, he heaves a shaky breath, thoughts swarming his mind, and without consulting his higher faculties, he finds his legs moving at their own accord.

Aerith’s voice calls to him, but it remains unheard and unheeded. He can only see one person.

* * *

Reno notices a familiar ravenette moving towards them and he panics, his arm flailing in the air as it blindly seeks hold of Cloud. He knows that the long-estranged friends have yet to meet, and he remembers every word that spilled from the lips of a drunken Cloud, detailing his sorrow at not being able to reconnect with the person whom he longed for the most. And Reno doesn’t want the inevitable confrontation. He knows that it will spoil any chance of his friend enjoying himself for this one night. 

And so, as a last attempt of distraction, Reno loudly exclaims, “Hey, Chocobohead!” his arm finally connects with Cloud’s shoulder, landing in a heavy blow, blue eyes fixed on the figure that is drawing ever closer. “I forgot I wanted to show you something!” 

But Cloud is clearly not amused. With a confused frown, he shrugs off the offending arm and says, “I told you, I’m not interested in seeing anything.”

“But you’ll really like this one, believe me.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Cloud shakes his head and refuses to budge, sitting still on his stool and drinking from the bottle.

The Turk shakes his shoulder more urgently, nearly standing from his seat. “Trust me, you’re gonna want to see this,” he says through gritted teeth. “ _Trust me_.”

At this point, Cloud has had it. Testy and unamused, he whips his head to the side, preparing an onslaught of curses, when instead of seeing an unruly mess of red hair, he finds himself met with a solid chest, and he trails his eyes upwards, mouth clamped shut, only to lock eyes with a mako blue-violet gaze. Cloud’s eyes widen a fraction and his lips part. 

It is…

_It’s…_

Zack.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support! Kudos and comments are a great motivation to continue!
> 
> PS: listen to The Light Behind Your Eyes by My Chemical Romance for extra Zakkura feels 😭


End file.
